


Friday I'm In Love

by romanfunkboy



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: A little bit of angst, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, i was feeling romantic with the cure playing in the background, im a sop, its cheesy dont kill me, thomas being fucking happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanfunkboy/pseuds/romanfunkboy
Summary: “Well, Mr Barrow, it is Friday.”
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 93





	Friday I'm In Love

**Author's Note:**

> It's basically a cheesy songfic of some kind I just really love this song. I pretend I'm cold and unfeeling but Thomas brings out the soppy romantic in me. Warning for war flashbacks and mentions of suicide (because lovely lovely Edward).

**Saturday**

Thomas’s fingers twitch nervously as he stood against the wall. He stares blankly ahead, the family’s chatter white background noise in his ears. His hands already feels as cold as the sliver cutlery on the Crawley’s dining table.

* * *

**Sunday**

He stalks through the corridors of the Abbey checking that everything is neat and tidy. He stops by the library and picks up the metal poker. He must start stoking the fireplace flames as Mr Branson mentioned he is going to be coming into the library this afternoon. His fingers felt the pleasant warmth of the flames and he stood there for a while, relishing in the heat. Finally, he took a step back and moved on elsewhere in the house, his fingers already started to feel cold again. It’s not the same.

* * *

**Monday**

George finds him in the kitchen and grabs his hand, insisting that Thomas attend Sybbie and his tea party. His tiny hand was smooth and soft. Thomas was glad that he was free for the time being and he accepted George’s invitation. He scooped the boy up and seated him on his shoulders, causing the young Crawley to squeal with glee. His chest was warm.

* * *

**Tuesday**

He catches one of the scullery maids and the hall boy kissing in the corners of the abbey. He grimly asked them to see him in the butler’s pantry. The maid was close to tears, but the hall boy stood in front of her as though to shield her from Thomas, his chin high and haughty.

“Mr Barrow, if you have to, sack me sir. Alice doesn’t deserve it.”

Thomas repressed a smirk by sucking in his cheeks and breathing deeply. Ah the courage of young love. He had been courageous once, had flung himself into fists and punches for a handsome golden footman.

“Timothy, even if I wanted to, the maids are technically not under my charge.”

Timothy blushed a crimson red.

“Now, this is a warning to you both. Off you go now.”

They scampered out of the room quickly, glad that they still had their jobs. Thomas spotted their hands were still linked together before they disappeared through the doorway.

* * *

**Wednesday**

Thomas had a nightmare. He dreamt that he was still in the trenches, the soil raining on him as the ground shook from the explosions. He was scared, alone and tired. So very tired. He was trying to carry someone on a stretcher, and he looked down. It was Edward, his blank unseeing white eyes gazing upwards towards the sky, his face ashen white, his lips blue and open in a silent scream. Blood dripped from his wrists into the muddy ground beneath them. Thomas's hands were wet and cold and his grip was slippery. He realised his wrists were also cut open, and his hands bloody, causing the stretcher grip to slip in his fingers. Thomas’s chest was tight, he could feel panic and grief rising within him, a whimper threatening to bubble up from his throat.

Suddenly a pair of hands held onto his shaking ones and he was not holding on the stretcher anymore and the cuts on his wrists were just two pale white lines. In fact, he was not on the trenches anymore, he seemed to be in a backyard of some sort. Thomas looks down on the hands holding him. They were strong looking, broad, the fingernails neat and clean. He should really look up and see who is holding onto his hands, but they felt so warm. He continued staring at the hands, and he started to smile to himself.

Whoever was holding onto his hands started to laugh, a rich low sound that wrapped itself around Thomas’s heart and squeezed. _This is love_ , Thomas thought to himself, _and I know that voice._

Suddenly Thomas is awake on his bed back at the abbey, his hand was lying on the bed underneath the first warm rays of the sunrise peaking in from the windows. 

* * *

**Thursday**

Thomas so very restless. Mr Branson was the only one at the abbey today and since Andy was given his half day, Thomas was serving Mr Branson’s luncheon alone. Usually Thomas would have been driven mad by Mr Branson’s lack of table etiquette, his utensils screeching across the porcelain plates, and how his eyes always seems to be aware of servants in the room, staring right at them. They were supposed to be invisible to the upper class and if Mr Branson wants to fit in, he must really start to condition himself to ignore the servants, for everyone’s sake.

But today Thomas was restless for something else entirely. In his pocket he had received a letter, stating a place and time. Honestly Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

Mr Branson had stopped eating and was staring at Thomas. Then Thomas realised the man was smiling. The butler was caught off guard and raised a questioning brow at him.

“You seem perky today,” Mr Branson quipped, and Thomas couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question or that he was making fun of him.

“Sir?”

“You are pouting,” Mr Branson laughed and Thomas for some reason can’t find it in himself to be angry at him.

“I didn’t realise, sir.”

“Is there something coming up soon?”

“More like a someone.”

And they left it at that, but Mr Branson’s eyes twinkled over the rim of his glass.

* * *

**Friday**

“I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere fancy to eat. Somewhere posh.”

Thomas smiled and propped his head on his hand, looking down on Richard lying by his side. “Isn’t that not very circumspect, Mr Ellis?”

Richard laughs, a rich low sound that vibrated deep within his chest. Thomas felt it against his hand, his arm, his chest, his entire being. Richard reached up and stroked Thomas’s face, his eyes shining, a mixture of blue and golden flecks illuminated by the afternoon sun shining into the window of his childhood room in the attic of his parents’ house. Thomas reached up and held Richard’s hand in his, the warmth of it spreading from the tips of his fingers across his hand, down his arm and into his heart.

“Well, Mr Barrow, it is Friday.”

Thomas grinned and leaned down to kiss him.

Richard laughed again as Thomas whispered against his lips, “And I’m in love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Boy I lowkey wished Tom Branson and Thomas Barrow had some sort of interaction in the show considering their mutual fondness for Sybil and the actors IRL chemistry. Maybe Allen Leech and Rob James-Collier couldn't keep straight faces if they shot a scene together? Anyways I'd like the idea of Tom Branson being an a LGBT ally cheering Thomas on lmao u go thomas


End file.
